


you know I love you (and you love the sea)

by coat



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Athletes, Beach Volleyball, Best Friends, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Octaven, Pining, Running
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coat/pseuds/coat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five times Octavia and Raven exercised together, and one time they tried a whole new type of workout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. got a little soul (the world is a cold, cold place to be)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goofball46](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goofball46/gifts).



> Octaven is such an under-appreciated ship! Enjoy! :) Title from "Unbelievers" by Vampire Weekend
> 
> [Every chapter except the final one is rated Teen]
> 
> Chat with me on tumblr @[clarkelionheart](http://clarkelionheart.tumblr.com/)!

Raven Reyes is certain of exactly two things in her ever-changing life.

One, Coke is always better than Pepsi.

And two, she is definitely not in love with her best friend.

Especially not when said best friend is rubbing gooey sunscreen into the space between her shoulder blades, her breath hot on the nape of Raven’s neck.

“I don’t get the point, you never burn,” Octavia quips. She twists Raven’s long hair atop her head, out of harm’s way. “And anyway, it’s December.”

The bike trail is deserted, for few individuals are stupid enough to go running on a freezing winter afternoon.

Octavia had practically begged (on her knees) and Raven eventually caved, tossing her psychics notes aside and exchanging them for shorts. In all the years she’s known her friend, Raven has never once truly understood her dedication to working out.

Especially at times like this.

She’s Octavia; her hotness is a fact, not an opinion. She doesn’t need exercise to stay in shape. No one, not even Raven, is immune to the Blake genes. It is a fact of life.

Raven supposes it’s hypocritical of her to scoff at O’s lifestyle - people say the same about her. But what can she say, Raven is always up for a challenge. She loves to be in control of the situation, calling the shots. Exercise, the pounding ache of her feet, thudding against the trail in rapid-fire succession, is one of the few parts of her life Raven has complete control over. Among the unchangeable truths, she strives to make the best of the situation. She always has.

“Hey, O?” She asks, focusing on anything but the slide of Octavia’s small palm massaging her back. It feels nice, the tension washing from her body instantly, but at the same time she struggles to keep still. Raven leans back, curving her spine, and drops her head on O’s bony shoulder. She smirks upward, nose against the curve of Octavia’s neck. She squints her eyes against the sun directly above her head but can hardly make out her her friend’s facial silhouette.

“I’m listening,” O states, voice carefully nonchalant. Raven, as her best friend, knows she’s only feigning boredom. She’s cocky enough to know her jokes are killer.

“When a plant gets sad, do you think the other plants photosympathize with it?” she blinks up innocently. Octavia sighs dramatically (like Raven says, she’s a natural born drama queen, perfect for the stage) and jolts her shoulder forward. She yelps indignantly and stumbles forward, but figures she might deserve it. That wasn’t her finest, Raven must admit.

Really, sarcasm and bad puns are Raven’s natural defense for any feelings. Particularly those involving Octavia Blake. Not that she has many feeling about her best friend, outside the normal attachment.

And Awe.

And occasional fantasies.

But those are just normal reactions when your best friend is a Blake.

(Right?)

“Wierdo,” Octavia scoffs, but she is fighting a smile. Raven spins around and grabs her friend by the hips, yanking the shorter girl forward before digging her nails into Octavia’s bare side, below her sports bra. It’s the smaller girl’s turn to yelp, a laugh rising unbidden from her throat. O struggles to flee in a scramble of flying limbs but Raven holds tight despite the protests. Both of them wear only a sports bra and their skin already shines with sweat. It’s gross, but nothing they haven’t seen before.

Octavia eventually manages to break away, brushing her friend off with a good-natured smile.

“Now you do me,” O smirks, and Raven wonders if she is visibly turning scarlet at the words. She grabs the sunscreen bottle and manhandles her friend around, earning a muttered “rude”. Raven’s glad no one can see her facial expression. She’s not sure how well she would hide… Whatever the hell it is that she’s feeling.

“Fuck,” Octavia hisses as the lotion touches her warm back, a juxtaposition of temperatures.

“Don’t be such a baby, Blake.”

Raven doesn’t understand why such a familiar act feels foreign and riddled with electricity. She’s rubbed sunscreen onto Octavia millions of times since they were kids running barefoot down the streets all summer. Something shifted, for though her skin is familiar, Raven feels like a stranger, an imposter.

Octavia caught up to Raven in height, but she remained small and lithe. As O says, it made spooning so much easier. Raven looks down at her best friend, her thick dark hair pulled back in a tight braid (courtesy of Lexa, their roommate Clarke’s girlfriend). Her features are delicate, the sharp jut of her jaw and glint in hazel eyes. 

Despite her average size, Octavia posses an air of willingness to fight. It still surprises Raven sometimes, the complete fearlessness O challenges those around her with. Sometimes she finds a similar look reflected in her own face; Raven supposes it is just another product of the system. Once a foster kid, always a foster kid.

Although, without her mother’s incompetence, she would have never met her best friend.

Octavia wriggles, jolting Raven back to the present. She releases the brunette, who immediately jumps away, spinning on her heel. “You look a little red, and we haven’t even started warmups.”

Raven snorts and flops onto the grass, gesturing her friend forward. The frost has long since melted, thankfully, and the surface is dry. No awkward pants stains - not this time, at least.

The sun beats down on Octavia’s bony back, glaringly bright but relaying little warmth. Raven holds her best friend’s feet as Octavia does rapid-fire curl ups.

“I can hear you thinking of nature puns, and I’d like to tell you in advance to spare yourself.”

“Leaf me alone, O.”

She receives a prolonged groan in reply. Raven smirks. The unusually warm weather, and recent completion of a major final project, causes her to smile wider than she has in several months. Octavia huffs out a breath as she struggles to lift from her core. Raven watches perspiration form on her best friend’s forehead and immediately knows what to do.

“Do 50 more and I’ll flash you,” she drawls, quirking a brow and judging Octavia’s reaction. Their relationship is built upon obvious flirting such as this. It is harmless, yet makes many people incorrectly assume they are a couple.

It could be from the exercise, but Raven could swear she saw her friend’s cheeks redden slightly. Her pace wavers and Raven zeros in on the way her abs shake with effort, defined lines popping up as she clenches her muscles. She momentarily forgets how to form words.

“You oaky, Reyes?” Octavia asks, smirking. Whatever emotions she displayed previously have been neatly masked over.

“Don’t steal my thunder,” Raven huffs out and pointedly ignores the question. If she didn’t know better she would think O is flexing her muscles exaggeratedly. No matter the reason, her best friend keeps doing perfect curl ups with a renewed vigor. Raven does nothing to prevent the familiar ache that settles just below her skin, where she cannot reach it.


	2. i’m not excited (but should i be?)

“We’re going out.”

A light flickers on and Raven groans, covering her face with a pillow. Today had been her astrophysics winter term final, and she wants to sleep for about a thousand years. She must’ve fallen asleep watching TV while waiting for Octavia to get home. Speak of the devil…

“Come on, Rae, get your sorry ass up.”

A forceful tug yanks the blankets off of Raven and she cringes at the harsh light. Through squinted eyes she can barely make out the Octavia, hip cocked against the counter, silhouetted against the glow from the kitchens.

“What the hell, O? It’s -“ she blearily blinks at her wristwatch. “It’s 11 pm, for fucks sake.”

“Our generation is wasting youth indoors,” Octavia replies in a low pitched, mocking voice. Raven can never hide her smile when her best friend imitates Mr. Jaha, their high school guidance counselor. How he has such a fantastic son is a mystery.

“Let me sleep, woman,” she grumbles, grabbing blindly for her blankets.

Octavia doesn’t reply, but sits heavily beside Raven, couch bouncing with the impact. She leans over, smirking. Raven hardly has a moment to gulp as Octavia hovers, face several inches above her chest, before long fingers dig into the soft skin of her hips. Raven shrieks in surprises and lets out a bark of laughter, writhing below her friend. Octavia hangs on with surprising ease, continuing to dig her nails into her side. Unable to loosen her hold, Raven retaliates by tickling Octavia right back. The noise is something close to a screech, but O lets go immediately and collapses onto Raven. 

Both are panting, smiling at each other. Octavia’s cheeks are flushed - possibly from the winter weather. Their chests, pressed together, rise simultaneously with each breath, and both of their shirts have rucked up in the tickle war. Hot bare skin touches from rips to hipbones, and the contact is akin to an electric shock in Raven. This is not at all help her current ‘emotions’ situation, not in the slightest.

Octavia looks down at her, sweating and hair mussed, and winks, “That was fun, lets do it again sometime.” 

Raven pushes her off and O’s eyes go comically wide with surprise. She reaches out wildly with her hands before tumbling backwards, landing beside the couch with a soft “oof”.

Raven clutches her side, gasping for breath. She leans over the edge and peers down. Her best friend lies on the carpet, glaring up. Raven reaches a hand down, intent on helping Octavia stand, but the girl maliciously tugs and Raven loses her balance. She falls in a sprawling heap on top of Octavia. It is not graceful, the way their limbs bang together and awkwardly bump as they attempt to disentangle themselves.

For Raven, this is everything.

(Maybe that’s why she’s so scared her feelings will ruin everything.)

“Alright, O. And where exactly are we going?”

Raven allows herself to be pulled from the house (after they’ve each donned every article of winter clothing they own) and into O’s car.

“Turn on the butt warmers, will you?” Octavia asks, squinting as she backs out of the driveway. Not for the first time, she is grateful for 4 wheel drive.

“I would, but your ass is already on fire.” Raven replies, grinning at her own line. 

“You’re a riot, Raven Reyes,” her friend tries to sound unaffected, but within several seconds Octavia is spluttering with laughter and gripping the steering wheel. Raven joins in, and they bounce along the empty streets with high spirits.

The landscape is still, frozen in time. Raven stares out the window, cheek resting against the frigid glass. In the back of her mind she can hear Octavia softly singing to some semi-mainstream indie song (“I like the songs that not everyone knows, but not the ones that nobody has ever heard, you know Rae?”). She can never truly tune Octavia out, for it is her presence that grounds Raven. Every once in a while, the car will jolt over a bump and Raven’s head will smack against the window.

It is a picturesque scene, illuminated by the moon and pinprick lights of stars. Each boulder lining the road is covered in frost, and snow hangs heavy on the ominous outlines of giant evergreens. They round a bend and emerge from a cluster of trees. Raven immediately spots the lake stretching out before them, surface sparkling. If not for the tiny motions of wind stirring the trees, this could be a photograph.

She hadn’t realized she’d voiced this last comment out loud until Octavia snorts. “In the Harry Potter universe, yeah, it could be a photo.”

“Whatever you say, Gryffindor.”

“Suck it, Ravenclaw,” O retorts. She turns off the engine, and suddenly everything is unnaturally silent. Raven watches as her best friend pulls on mittens and clambers out of her car. A gust of wind strikes them as soon as they leave the heated space and Raven shivers, stuffing her hands deeper into her coat pockets.

“Cold?” Octavia asks. Raven shifts her gaze over without moving her head - it looks like she, too, is shivering.

“This decision was snow bad.”

“I regret everything.”

“Come on, O. Do reindeer go to public school?”

Octavia pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Reyes, you already had your bad jokes phase. I got you that book, “1000+ jokes for nerds”. I would rather not relive the past.”

“Come on, humor me. It’s like, 12:00 at night. Let me ask again; do reindeer go to public school or not?”

“Fine, whatever. Um, yeah they do?”

“No, they're elf taught,” she grins as Octavia groans dramatically. Raven bangs on pretend drums and making a ba-dum-tiss sound. Her best friend bounds forward, scuffing up the pristine layer of snow. She pauses only long enough to grasp Raven’s arm and yank her forward.

In the back of her mind, Octavia must be considering the brace - she glances down at Raven’s leg occasionally, biting her lip, before slowing down. In a few seconds she is back to skipping, but O’s thoughtfulness keeps a smile on Raven’s face.

The looming expanse of ice stretches before them - the slippery banks of Polis Lake, where they spend summers splashing around, are now unrecognizable. Raven doesn’t ask if it’s safe. She wonders it, of course, but she is not afraid. She knows danger exists from the first press of Octavia’s boot over the ice. A minute creak resonates over the field, sound amplified in the frigid air. The stars shine; cold, alien, and distant. People crave what they cannot touch, and so humans long to reach the stars. Raven does not gaze at them with longing, but she believes it is similar to her turmoil of emotions with Octavia.

As her best friend steps forward, fully standing on the ice, Raven is reminded of her skill as a dancer. She remembers how Bellamy saved every spare penny to buy his sister a pair of worn ballet slippers. Lessons were expensive, but Indra, a renowned ballet teacher, had been impressed with Octavia’s skills from a young age and took the girl under her wing. Octavia gracefully bounds over the thin surface, feet poised even when weighed down by her hefty boots, and travels several yards onto the lake. Raven watches, ever mindful of her brace, with something akin to awe.

Octavia halts and tilts her head back, then spreads her arms behind her. A carefree grin extends from her curved lips to the crinkle of her closed eyes. She releases a breath, and Raven watches the puff of air travel upward before disappearing.

After a beat of silence, her best friend lets out a loud whoop. The sound echo back, reflecting of the trees bordering the lake.

“Come on, Reyes!” Octavia calls. She sounds distant, preoccupied. Raven ignores her leg - she has taught herself to run and move easily. Over time she has adapted, likely thanks to the youthful plasticity of her brain. Most people she meets are surprised to realize she has a lame leg.

Ice, however, is a different terrain. It is unsteady, and nothing that can be trusted - with a huff of laughter, Raven realizes it’s something she’s used to. Octavia is staring at her, arms outstretched, and so Raven doesn’t hesitate before taking a step forward. A crackle sounds beneath her (Octavia’s eyes flicker over, brow crinkled in worry) but Raven keeps her gaze fixed on her best friend.

She figures out a pattern, and though movement is awkward, she is able to make her way forward. Raven is only a step away from Octavia when her footing becomes unsteady. Panic shoots through her, but she keeps her face in an impassive line. Raven is no stranger to physical (nor mental) pain, but she is not immune. She lashes her palms out, bracing for the impact. It never comes. A steady hand grabs her around the waist. She looks up at Octavia, who towers above as Raven bends her knees, and lets out a shuddering breath.

“Do my eyes deceive me, Reyes,” Octavia begins, and Raven already knows this won’t be good. “Or were you... Falling for me?”


	3. we know the fire awaits unbelievers (all of the sinners the same)

Octavia hikes through the brush, just a pace ahead. They have fallen into a steady pace, chests heaving in sync as they navigate the unsteady terrain. After several minutes - 42, according to Raven’s watch - Octavia’s pace starts to slow. Raven draws to a stop immediately, though her brace awkwardly shoots forward in a patch of loose gravel. She ignores it and instead reaches a steadying hand to Octavia’s bicep. Her best friend doesn’t look injured, however, and is instead gazing off at a grove of trees several paces from the deer trail. Octavia turns to her, sharp eyes the color of praise brush.

“Hey, Rae, lets go explore over there!”

Raven groans - even remaining on the trail with Octavia is risky. Her “adventures” never really end well. Especially not when they involve close proximity to such a large body of water. She considers the steep, slippery bank and lake beyond. Polis Lake is freezing cold this time of year, and slimy with algae. Not something Raven wants to fall in, ever again.

(She still hasn’t fully forgiven Finn for the time he pushed her in on a field trip in elementary school.)

She glances over at Octavia, argument at the ready, but the gleeful wildfire spark in her eyes makes Raven reconsider. It couldn’t be too bad - besides, they hadn’t been down to the dock since last summer.

(In middle school, Octavia, Clarke, and Raven had snuck down to the dock in the middle of the night. She had dared Octavia to jump, naked, into the lake. In a very ‘The Parent Trap’-esque move, she and Clarke had grabbed O’s clothes and hid.)

Before Raven can say anything, Octavia grins and pulls her forward. She weaves their fingers together, making Raven more breathless than the run had.

“Fucking lesbians.”

Raven stiffens at the comment, spinning around. She tries to pull back, but Octavia only holds her arm tighter and lightly squeezes their fingers. Her heart pulses, loudly. Raven is unsure that she heard correct, at first - she has never before witnessed homophobia in their town, though it is not the first time she and O have been mistaken as a couple. A group of middle aged men speedwalk by, further ahead on the paved path. Sweat gathers below their armpits and backs of their knees.

Her vision seems to tilt and she sees through an angry red haze. Octavia is in a similar state, but her gaze smolders silently while Raven explodes with emotion. She is stepping forward, insults rising to the surface. She is surprised to hear they are in Spanish, her first language - but it should come as no surprise that rage brought back her mother tongue. Raven’s heart beats rapidly and fury blocks any deeper emotions churning inside of her. She just wants to stop them from staring at her hand, still linked with Octavia’s, with such disgust. More than herself, she is righteous on behalf of her best friend. Nobody looked at O will that much contempt and got away with it.

“¡Chingate! ¡Yo cago en la leche de tu puta madre!” Raven hisses through bared teeth. Though she assumes none know the meaning behind her words, there is no misunderstanding the hatred. She is pleased when one of the men loses pace, almost stumbling under the strength of her glare. More insults swarm her mind, and she she makes to step forward. Only a tug on her arm keeps her back and causes Raven to glance at her best friend. Octavia looks equally furious, rigid beside her, but her stare is calculating. She glances at Raven with a considering tilt of her head, and she watches O’s jawbone clench. 

“I have a better idea,” she murmurs. Raven hardly has a moment to process the words before her best friend is stepping farther into her personal space. A warm palm settles on her hip, right above her shorts, and traces the elastic waistband. Raven’s brain short circuits, hand falling limply to her side, and she dimly registers her mouth dropping open in shock before all she can see is Octavia’s grin. 

A gentle, caste press of lips causes her to take a ragged breath. Octavia tastes like the sour blackberries that grow along the lake. She pulls back minutely to glance at Raven. Her pupils are heavily dilated, and a pinkish glow spreads over her high cheekbones. Behind them comes a disgruntled scoff, and it is that sound which propels Raven into motion. She pushes back against Octavia urgently, fingers rising to tangle in the back of her sports bra.

Octavia smells like sunscreen and pond reeds and frigid water. Her skin is slippery smooth to the touch, and Raven’s hands easily slide over the tanned muscles. She pulls her other hand away from the Octavia’s fingers and tangles it in her sleek brown hair, prompting a low keen from the girl. Raven gulps at the sound, throat suddenly dry as a desert, before crowding back into Octavia’s space. The other girl doesn’t give control up easily, but Raven is persistent.

When Octavia finally pulls away, Raven’s pushes forward blindly before she remembers the situation. This is not a fantasy, nor a dream. Her eyes shoot open and she pulls back, cursing herself for chasing more than she should’ve. From the looks of it, Octavia is also affected. Raven watches her turn away, back towards the lake, smoothing the ruffled mass of her hair. Raven can’t help smirking when remembering that she did that, she caused that disheveled touch to her friend’s put-together appearance.

A quick glance at the trail tells Raven that the men moved on long ago - they are small specks in the distance. There is no denying that their ‘proving of a point’ went on longer than expected, but she assumes it will be just another part of their relationship that will fade.

Just like their spin the bottle kisses, so much more than a soft press of lips.

Or waking up after sleepovers, curled around each other, open-mouthed against the other’s pulse point, and remaining in that position for several minutes.

Raven hears a rustle of leaves and turns.

“Is my lipgloss okay?” Octavia asks, peering in the front camera of her iPhone and wiping the edge of her lip.

“Who wears makeup running?” Raven snorts in reply, earning a ‘not amused’ face and hard jab at her shoulder. She deserved that, but wouldn’t admit it. Raven follows her best friend down the trail, conversation slipping to simpler topics (such as Clarke and Lexa’s increasingly gross PDA). The kiss lingers between them, unmentioned, but existent nevertheless.


	4. what holy water contains a little drop (little drop for me)

Raven should’ve known that this would be a terrible idea.

It was Clarke’s fault, she would declare until the end of time.

Blaming her friend is difficult, however, as she hits the water, falling of her own accord, with a loud splash.

She can feel the vibrations of Octavia’s laughter even before the breaches the surface, blinking moisture from her eyes. Clarke joins in as she reappears, throwing her head back with glee. Raven vows to kill both of them in their sleep. Lexa only looks mildly alarmed as Clarke rocks their canoe. She is a catch, Raven will admit. Not bad on the eyes, either.

Though her thoughts are predominantly occupied with another, these days.

Octavia smirks at her and Raven wants to hate her best friend, but her heart melts at the joy stretching across her face. Her posture is relaxed, sprawled over the contours of the canoe. Octavia looks more relaxed then she has in weeks. Raven assumes this is because she recently smoothed over the siblings spat she had with Bellamy, and the fact spring semester had just ended. This outing was, originally, supposed to be a celebration of their accomplishments. Raven is finding it a bit difficult to appreciate it when her feet are brushing slimy pond weeds and who knows what else. Octavia’s laugh is intoxicating, and Raven feels drunker than she had the night before (which was, admittedly, extremely wasted). An unbidden smile rises to her lips, and as O reaches nimble fingers to grasp her arms, Raven joins in on her laughter. A new wave of giggles overtakes Octavia. By the time Raven has collapsed onto the canoe, the boat is shaking with their unsteady movements.

She waits, innocently, and when Octavia is attacked by a new wave of giggles, Raven lurches up to grab her by the shoulders. O shrieks, limbs flailing. Her eyes narrow as she realizes Raven’s intention - to push her over the boat.

“Oh, hell no,” she gasps through clenched teeth before lurching to the side of the boat. Raven loses her grip as the canoe shakes below her.

“Oi, guys! Check out that fat swan!” Clarke exclaims, and Octavia whips her head around to look. The feud is over, for now.

Raven nestles her head on Octavia’s legs - bare except for a small bikini - and blinks up at her best friend. Her face blocks the fierce noonday sun, and Raven revels in the shade, turning her face towards O’s stomach. It would be awkward - maybe it should - if it were anyone but them. But they are used to this, these actions hardly classifiable as platonic. It is “just how they roll”, as Clarke has stated more than once.

“Clarke, you are getting burned,” Lexa exclaims, distantly. Raven half wants to sit up and witness this, but she’s too comfortable. She settles with watching the Octavia’s changing facial expressions.

“I lied, Lexa. I’m secretly a lobster,” Clarke replies in a mock-sad voice. Above her, O shakes with mirth and nearly dislodges Raven’s head.

“Even that would not change how I feel, Clarke,” Lexa replies. At this, Raven scrambles up, head knocking against Octavia’s sharp shoulder. Her best friend’s eyes latch onto hers and they simultaneously make faux gagging sounds.

“Disgusting,” Octavia whispers, shuddering. Raven nods in agreement. Knowing Clarke, Lexa is probably currently being awarded for that statement. She grabs the paddle from Octavia’s hand and plunges it into the water.

“Lets get the hell outta dodge,” Raven smirks, steering further into the lake. She’d give Clarke 30 seconds, tops, before Octavia begins catcalling and whistling. Octavia smiles against the nape of Raven’s neck, wrapping thin arms around her waist. She leans forward, nearly bare front against Raven’s similarly clad back. Only the thin material of their bikinis separate them from pressing flush together. Raven can’t resist pushing back, just slightly, and tipping her head back to rest against O’s shoulder as she rows. The water rushes past and Raven’s muscles flex with the oars’ movement.

For her, this is enough - just being with her best friend.

Octavia is here, and loves her, even if it’s not in the way Raven craves.


	5. see the sun go down (and the night is deep)

“Is she single?” the guy asks. His name starts with an A - Alex, Adam? Raven guesses and hopes it’s right.

“Well Atom, maybe you should ask Octavia yourself,” she says smoothly, voice betraying none of the jealously clawing within her. She tells her emotions to hush, though they don’t listen. Raven sits, hidden, in the shadow of the lifeguard hut, staring up at the muscular man who’s just sought her out. He has well defined abs, which is always a plus, but his swim shorts are absolutely hideous and he has the worst sock tan. Probably a runner, from the looks of it. Raven is definitely not new to people asking her about Octavia. For that matter, O is used to people asking if Raven herself is available. She has no business blocking her best friend from getting some - hell, she should be helping, not hindering. The guy squints across the sand, shielding his eyes with a large hand. Raven follows his gaze and dimly sees the silhouette darting up to spike a volleyball across the net.

She would recognize Octavia anywhere.

A joyous cheer erupts from her side of the net. Raven smiles in something akin to pride, but it soon slips off her face and is replaced by a steely mask. She doesn’t twitch as several bulky guys touch Octavia, congratulatory - she convinces herself she doesn’t feel their hands on Octavia’s skin like a burn, pulling her away. Raven tells herself it’s for other reasons that she turns away from the game, away from Atom, and heads towards the boardwalk. She needs a breather.

Except Octavia always knows; she always senses when something is wrong, even when Raven would rather her not know.

(Especially when it’s about her.)

It takes less than 30 seconds for the cool hand to slip around her waist, resting just above the deeply tanned skin of her bikini line.

“Hey,” Octavia all but whispers, keeping pace and resting her chin on Raven’s shoulder.

“Has anyone ever told you that your chin is sharp as fuck,” Raven replies through gritted teeth. It comes out harsher than she means, and instantly regrets it when Octavia steps in front of her and narrows her eyes. They are the same height, but Raven recognizes the glint in her best friend hazel gaze and tries not to gulp audibly.

“Spit it out, Reyes,” Octavia demands. It is an order, but at the same time, her thumb swipes across the back of Raven’s hand in a soothing gesture. She isn’t even sure if O notices it, or if the action is completely automatic. Whatever the reason, it softens her words, and Raven can’t help leaning into her best friends touch.

“It’s nothing, O. Let’s get back.”

Octavia doesn’t look like she fully believes the words (she can spot lies from a mile away) but she merely nods after another moment of consideration. She motions for Raven to follow and skips away across the sand, arms raised high as she twirls. Her hair whips through the air and Raven knows that it smells faintly of the sea, of salt and places unexplored.

“Gotta getcha getcha getcha getcha head in the game,” Octavia sings, and Raven laughs, catching up and linking arms with her best friend. She presses their bare sides together. If she is sure of anything, it is Octavia. Raven just wishes she would stop thinking about her soft lips before it destroyed all they have.

The volleyball sails over the net and Raven winches as the guy in front of her crashes to the sand, arms outstretched and several feet from the ball. Her team is currently down three - they are no where near as unified as Octavia’s group. Raven mentally curses herself for being on this side - she’d momentarily forgotten O’s volleyball prowess. She’d played all throughout middle school, as well as high school, and though it had been several years since graduation, she never lost her spark.

(Raven doubted Octavia ever could.)

It’s Clarke’s turn to serve, and she saunters to the corner of the court with a smirk. Raven doesn’t miss the way Lexa’s eyes track her bikini-clad body from across the sand, and she is torn between gagging and being happy that Clarke has found someone. She settles on rolling her eyes and turning back to the game.

The ball successfully clears the net - Clarke whoops in joy - but Atom dives forward a moment before it reaches the ground. It soars over yet again and almost lands on the sand between two men with slow reflexes. Lexa grabs it in the nick of time, stooping low and hurling it towards Octavia. Raven watches as her best friends stare becomes calculated, as if gears are turning in her mind. She looks as if she is dancing, her movements an algorithm, stepping back and to the side in a graceful arc before bending her knees. The volleyball smacks her extended forearms and glides over the net. It thuds onto the sand on Raven’s side of the net. She is so absorbed in the way small tracks of sweat gather on Octavia’s abs and biceps that she almost misses the way Atom lopes his arm around her and swipes his mouth over her head.

Almost.

Raven really doesn’t know what’s making her act this way, but she has to physically stop herself from rushing forward and slapping the guy away. She’s not sure why.

Clarke gestures forward, indicating it’s time to rotate, and Raven moves several steps to the right. When she zones back in, the blonde is starring with a knowing, arched eyebrow.

She can’t possibly know… Or can she?

A whistle blows, somewhere, and Raven is aware of a volleyball whooshing through the air. Her mind is lodged on the image of Atom’s hand over Octavia, and she has to physically shake the thought away. It lingers in her mind, blurring her vision and causing her hands to shake minutely.

Someone shouts her name and Raven glances up, reflexes quick. It’s as if time has slowed. Like always, she glances at Octavia first - her best friend is watching her with an unreadable expression. Clarke is gesturing wildly at the sky, and it is only then that Raven catches a glimpse of the volleyball hurtling straight towards her. She bends her knees, crouching, and waits for a beat before uncoiling like a snake prepared to strike. Raven leaps into the air and spikes the ball forward with a resonating smack. Her palm stings at the contact and she lands softly in the sand, eyes tracking her aim. The ball hurtles through the air at a surprising speed, and dread fills Raven as she recognizes the target.

Atom’s eyes widen in surprise, and she would laugh at the comical expression if her mind wasn’t stuck on “oh shit.” He starts to raise his hands but it is no use; the volleyball rushes towards him and smacks the man straight in the chest. Even with his wide-shouldered build, Atom staggers backwards, losing his balance, and falls onto the sand.

Raven can do nothing but listen to her heart hammer in her chest, watching as the opposite side bustles with emotion. She feels Clarke’s sharp gaze boring into the side of her face. Raven breathes a sigh of relief when, moments later, Atom rises up (thanks to Octavia’s arm). He looks nothing more than slightly dazed, but walks off the court. Octavia, after raising her eyebrows pointedly, follows. Raven sighs and trudges after her best friend, basic apology already forming in her mind.

 

“You didn’t hit Atom on purpose, right Rae?” Octavia asks, several hours later. They stand at the edge of the surf, yelping as a particularly large wave reaches their feet. The sun is setting and they will have to head back to their apartment soon - but for now, they can enjoy.

Raven buries her toes in the sand and feels the earth shift around her. She always likes to remain steady, constant. Octavia is completely different; she darts into the water, slick as a fish, and hardly blinks when cold water washes over her legs. Even in life, Octavia is ever changing. She is dynamic where Raven is anchored; they ground each other. Raven gazes out over the surf, mulling over a reply.

“Oh course not.” It wasn't a lie. She hadn't meant it, but having him leave the game had its advantages. Even if she was forced to apologize and help him get ice. “Why?”

Octavia shakes her head, not meeting Raven’s gaze. It’s her turn to stare out over the water.

Raven is aware the sun is setting over the waves on a warm summer evening. She is unable to tear her eyes away from Octavia, and knows nothing in nature can compare to the serene expression on her friends face.

When the sun has sunk beyond the horizon and the sky turns from orange to deep purple, Octavia finally turns to meet her gaze. “No reason. It’s not important.”

Raven mulls over those words for many, many weeks into the future.


	6. girl you and i will die unbelievers (bound to the tracks of the train)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The NSFW and final chapter!

They are at the gym and Octavia is furious.

In retrospect, boxing was probably not the best sport Raven could’ve suggested. O hasn’t mentioned what set her off but Raven has the keen ability to read her friend. Her lips are pressed in a thin line and she breathes in short huffs through her nose.

Octavia punches hard, even for her. She dances in place for several steps before darting forward, jabbing. The strike is quick and Raven hurries to block, absorbing the blow with her gloves. She is given no time to recover before O is lashing back. The guarded set to her jaw is foreign to Raven. She should know better than to ask, and she would - if she were most people. But Octavia is her best friend, and she is the only person aside from Bellamy who can reason with her at a time like this. Part of Octavia’s charm is her free spirit, but it comes hand in hand with a short fuse temper. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Raven attempts, slowly circling her friend. Octavia’s shoulders stiffen slightly, and her eyebrows lower. She doesn’t answer.

They continue in silence for several minutes, with only muffled grunts and the sound of gloves making contact. Eventually, to Raven’s surprise, Octavia breaks the silence.

“It was an argument with Indra. Nothing major.” By the stiffness in her best friend’s tone, Raven doubts it was ‘nothing major’. She doesn’t push it, but acts as a human punching bag for O’s anger. She can take it.

“I just,” Octavia starts, and her arm jerks with a new wave of anger. Her steady, surefire aim slips as she loses concentration. Raven, even with her fast reflexes, has no time to duck as the fist turns towards her face. It collides with her lip and Raven immediately blinks back the tears that spring to her eyes. A low cry of pain rises, unbidden, from her mouth.

She tastes the tang of copper, and Raven knows her lip has been split. It could’ve been worse, if the glove made contact slightly higher on her face. She carefully feels the tender flesh with the pad of her thumb, pain dulling to a throbbing ache, and only then does she notice Octavia staring at her, open mouthed. The anger has faded in an instant, only to be replaced by sorrow and something else. Raven is stunned to see the glimmer of tears in her best friends eyes - neither of them are criers.

Raven quickly pulls off one of her boxing gloves and reaches out, hesitant, to touch Octavia’s arm. The girl flinches as if burned and Raven instantly steps away.

“I’m so sorry, Raven,” O says in a broken whisper. It is so quiet that she has to lean forward to make-out the words, and when she understands, she is flooded with emotion. Octavia rarely uses her first name, and that, more than anything, worries her. She reaches out once again and this time doesn’t budge when Octavia tries to back up. Her hand curls around the thin material of her sweaty tank top and she yanks the girl a step closer.

Raven waits until Octavia has looked up from the ground and holds her gaze. “It takes more than than that to kill me, O.”

It is a weak attempt at a joke and they both know it - but Octavia smiles, just a quirk of her lips, and Raven knows she appreciates it all the same.

“I - I didn’t mean to. Fuck, you’re bleeding!” Octavia raises her hand and gives Raven no time to prepare. Small, nimble hands are cupping her jaw and a finger is tracing her lips. Raven sucks in a ragged gasp, much louder than intended. Thankfully she receives no reply, but they stay in silence as her injury is examined. Eventually, O pulls back a few inches, but she keeps a hand resting on Raven’s jaw, It slowly slips down to her shoulder before she clasps their sweaty palms together.

“Come on, locker room has a first aid kit.”

Raven is about to protest, convince her it’s fine, she’s survived so much worse - but Octavia’s hand in her’s feels nice and reassuring. Raven thinks she would follow her best friend to the end of the earth. She only nods before crossing the gym and through the changing room doors.

“Sit,” Octavia commands as soon as the door swings shut, her tone leaving no room for argument. Raven settles down at the edge of the long wooden bench, arms curled around her. The room, lined with towering rows of lockers, is deserted. There are showers further down the hallway, though no sound comes from that direction.

Raven’s lip has started to pulse, but she’s not about to tell Octavia anything that will rile her up further. Raven watches the brunette sift through an emergency first aid kit, quickly sorting and frowning in concentration. 

“I wish Clarke were here... God, what does this shit even mean!” Octavia lets out a frustrated huff and holds up a packet with a ridiculously long name. Raven just rolls her eyes. She tries to smile, but it strains the edge of her cut lip. What a tragedy.

“Hold still,” Octavia warns. She seems to have picked her poison, and is now moving around the locker room to stand in front of Raven. She straddles the bench and scoots closer. Raven can feel heat radiating off Octavia and she tries not to glance at the miles of skin her ridiculously short shorts expose.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Raven replies. She is immediately surprised by the vehement meaning behind her words. Octavia picks up on it too, and the hand slowly swiping gauze over her lip stills. She tilts her head and regards Raven for several seconds.

“Of course you’re not.”

Raven doesn’t think she heard right - or, she wasn’t meant to hear. She does, however, and nothing can erase them from her memory. Her mind reels with possible meanings. Raven’s not one to dwell on things - she says her opinion, loud and clear, and dominates the situation.

“What do you mean?” Her voice is harsh, her mouth awkwardly forming the words with Octavia’s finger on her lips. Beneath, Raven senses a hint of fear in her words. It is not an emotion she is used to - not in the slightest. Octavia is probably the only person who can read this, clear as day. They know each other too well.

Octavia opens her mouth as if to speak but then seems to change her mind. She shakes her head, as if physically clearing the thoughts that gather like cobwebs. Raven’s curiosity blooms.

She places a hand over Octavia’s own and squeezes gently.

“Please, O.”

The girl refuses to meet her gaze. She scuffs the floor with the toe of her shoe for several seconds. When she finally looks up, her expression is masked. Very rarely are they able to hide how they feel from each other, and the reasons behind Octavia choosing to do this confuse Raven immensely.

“You think I haven’t noticed the stares, Reyes?”

Raven wishes the ground will swallow her up. She can’t speak, her mouth opening and closing dumbly. Her hands, braced against the bench, clench. A dull panic seems to fill her - she feels like this is not her life. This can’t be happening, not to her, not to them. Raven realizes she’s ruined it, her most treasured friendship, with her stupid emotions.

“I’m sorry, Octavia,” Raven begins. Her tone of speech varies, rising and crashing, and Raven is afraid it reveals the turmoil inside of her. Her voice is clipped, formal, nothing like the casual dialogue they have used for years. “I don’t - I didn’t. Nothing should get in the can of our friendship.”

Her lip trembles and Raven hates it. She focuses on the fake wood grain of the bench beneath her. This is her fault, for falling for someone completely unattainable. Her best friend would never look at her the same again.

“Hey,” Octavia’s voice is soft, gentle, and nearer than before. Raven glances up, hoping thats not a mistake, to see her friend only a breath away. Her hazel eyes, usually so fierce, are filled with such an uncharacteristic tenderness. Raven wants to laugh at the bitterness of being let down easy. It doesn’t hurt any less - in fact, it may hurt more - than if O had screamed at her.

“Nothing means more to me that our friendship.”

Raven nods, a lump forming in her throat. She tries to swallow it, unsuccessfully, and settles on raking a hand through thick hair. Her fingers snag harshly in a loose braid, and Raven tries to convince herself that the tears clouding her vision are from that. Honestly, this is what she expected all along. She couldn’t have, shouldn’t have, hoped for anything different. Anything more. 

Octavia is cupping her jaw once again and Raven stares into her eyes because she deserves this, deserves to watch as O exposes every buried secret. There is nothing but tenderness in Octavia’s expression as she leans in closer and whispers. “Nothing means more to me than you.”

Raven blinks, confused, mind scrambling to keep up. She stares at her best friend, her first friend beside Finn. The girl who turned her foster houses into homes. Raven braces her hands on the wooden bench and prays she isn’t reading this wrong. Hopes this isn’t a misunderstanding. Octavia smells salty, like sweat, but beneath that Raven picks up on her Victoria’s Secret lotion. Her breath is minty and it is as natural as breathing when Octavia leans forward and closes the distance between them.

It is not the first kiss they’ve ever shared, but it is different; no longer muddled in secrecy and repressed emotions. It is not hidden by nightfall or clumsy with drunken movements. Octavia is adventurous, always exploring, and Raven really should not be surprised that this aspect extends to everything in her life. Raven’s jaw still hangs open in surprise as her friend directs her mouth elsewhere. She struggles to speak, question this, push her away (it could only end in heartbreak) but really, the things Octavia is doing with her tongue are all kinds of illegal. 

What started as chaste has transformed to Octavia mapping the darker skinned girl’s face with her mouth, touching everywhere but her sore lips. Raven’s back is uncomfortably curved forward, and her feet barely graze the floor, but she’s not complaining. Octavia darts to Raven’s neck, sucking at the dark skin of her pulse point. Octavia grins when Raven’s hands clench and unclench the fabric of her shirt.

“Shit, O, are - are you sure?” Raven finally huffs out. In that single sentence, she tries to relay the intense influx of emotion currently flooding her mind. Octavia’s answer is quirking a thin eyebrow and pressing her lips, extremely softly, to Raven’s forehead.

Raven’s throat constricts with emotion. In the past, sex, this - has always been an outlet. It was a method of release, frustration, anger. She clawed at the backs of nameless people, leaving angry red scratches on their skin. She didn’t correct the men when they would groan the wrong name, snapping their hips upward. She didn’t say no to the girls with soft skin and honeyed voices who only wanted to get back at their boyfriends.

With Octavia, it’s different. This isn’t meaningless, for nothing with them ever is. The feeling is intensified by how much this is worth, how much they need each other. Raven pulls back and ducks down, panting against her friend’s neck. Octavia is not at all hesitant, her hands roaming over Raven’s body. She knows what she wants and goes for it, consequences be damned - it is one of O’s more admirable traits. They start at her hips, then dart upward to her shoulders. She skims the outline of Raven’s body, creeping downwards to trace her thighs, before finally inching up her stomach. When Octavia gently palms Raven’s breasts over her sweaty tank top, she gasps and jerks into the touch. Her bare arms, damp with cooling sweat, prickle in the dark room and she shudders. 

The sounds echoes around the empty room, and the thrill that anyone could walk in only serves to heighten their urgency. Raven growls, pushing forward against Octavia’s mouth. Her hurt lip is hardly noticeable, lost among the more crucial senses. It hardly deters them. Everything feels safe and right, unlike most of the make-out sessions Raven has experienced. She wonders, with a surge of jealousy, how many lips have touched Octavia in this way. Who has reduced this headstrong warrior to a shivering, shaking figure?

She is not the first, but in her deepest fantasies, she wishes to be her last.

Octavia is all sharp edges though her mouth is unbelievably soft. They push and pull for dominance, unrelenting.

“You should be keeping physical activity with your mouth, ah, limited.” Octavia says, strangled. Raven treasures the broken sound.

“You mean you wouldn’t want me to put it to good use?”

“I never said that, Reyes. Fuck off.”

“Fuck me.”

Octavia pulls back to stare at her a moment, and Raven wonders if she went too far. She scrambles to play it off, think of a good joke (her mind is currently as sluggish as molasses). Then the girl is back, gaining control with renewed vigor. The smaller girl grabs Raven by the collar of her tank top and clumsily hauls her upward, yanking her from the bench. Raven scrabbles for a hold on the floor, but she has hardly regained footing before Octavia is moving.

“Heavier than you look, Rae,” Octavia pants, and Raven can only smirk. She doesn’t trust her mouth to form words right now. Still, O is powerful for such a small person - considering all the exercise she does Raven shouldn’t be surprised. Raven’s back slams against the locker room door and she lets out an (embarrassing) whine. A combination lock presses between her shoulder blades and Raven arches up, cold metal seeping through her thin tank top. Octavia stares at the exposed, unmarred skin of her throat.

She looks beautiful and messy and so, so aroused. Her hair is tangled, braids coming undone. Octavia grabs the bottom of Raven’s shirt and she toys with the thin fabric, tilting her head. Her palm slides to Raven’s stomach, lifting the hem, finger tracing the curves of her abs. Raven shivers, impatient with the slow pace.

“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” she snorts, pushing Octavia’s hand out of the way in order to lift up her shirt. O is shocked for no more than a seconds before she recovers, taking over and yanking Raven’s tank top up and over her head. It gets caught on Raven’s earring and she yelps. Very romantic, Raven mutters to herself. Octavia freezes as she spots the glint of metal before letting out a snort of laughter. She bangs her head forward, forehead against Raven’s shoulder, and is overcome with giggles.

“You’re such a nerd,” Octavia’s voice is muffled by her friend’s skin.

“Screw you.”

Octavia looks up at that, smirking devilishly. “You will, don’t worry.”

Raven can’t resist her fond smile, but still pushes O playfully. The girl takes it in stride as she carefully unhooks the caught earring and fully pulls the shirt off. She balls it up and tosses it across the room.

“Asshole, I’ll need that!” Raven exclaims, suddenly indignant.

Octavia is occupied, however; her gaze rakes over newly exposed skin in a quick once over. She doesn’t spend much time examining Raven’s nearly-bare top. It’s something they see all the time. Octavia doesn’t waste a moment before diving in, peppering wet kisses along her collarbone. Her fluttering kisses are soft, but her body is composed of hard edges clashing against Raven’s figure.

Octavia’s hand returns to creep up her stomach and circles her breast. Only the bra separates Octavia’s hand from her skin, yet despite the barrier, Raven jolts each time contact is made. She crosses her legs, attempting the relieve the growing pressure. Octavia leans down, crouching, and scrapes her teeth along the outline of Raven’s protruding nipple.

“Fuck, O,” Raven hisses, banging her head against the locker with pleasure. The girl has darted up once again, and this time carefully nibbles the shell of Raven’s ear. She teases the flesh with her teeth before smoothing it over with her tongue, soothing the reddened skin. Raven’s chest heaves, sweat glimmering over her stomach. She is painfully turned on and extremely uncomfortable, but isn’t in the position to ask for more.

“Is this okay?” Octavia breathes out, hands poised to yank down her shorts. Raven can only nod vigorously in response. At any time someone at gym could walk in on them, she remembers, but pushes it aside. Octavia slowly, carefully, eases down the elastic waistband. The shorts pool at Raven’s feet. Octavia nuzzles her soaked underwear and Raven gasps, something along the lines of “Octavia”. She is impatient with the pace of things.

“Come on, Tavia - oh,” Raven breaks off as the kneeling girl pulls aside her panties and licks a long stripe up her clit in one fluid motion. It is messy and O’s spit covers the inside of her thigh. Raven groans and, by reflex, reaches to grope Octavia’s ass. The girl has an incredibly precise tongue.

“Better, Reyes?” Octavia asks with a shit-earning grin. Raven glances at the girl between her legs. Her eyes are dark with dilated pupils, mouth slick with Raven’s arousal, and she nearly collapses at the sight. Instead, Raven fists a hand in O’s long hair and pulls her forward, back into the wet heat. The girl traces figure eights, tongue barely touching her, and Raven throbs.

“Jesus,” she gasps. Octavia groans, long and obscene, and the vibrations travel throughout Raven.

“It’s Octavia, actually,” the girl mutters. Raven responds but pulling Octavia closer, suddenly not content with their current proximity.

Raven braces herself against the lockers, cool against her flushed skin, and wraps her thighs around Octavia’s head. She twirls two fistfuls of straight dark hair and uses it as reins to guide Octavia into position. The girl settles between her spread thighs with little direction, eagerly licking over her entrance with an sloppy lapping sound. Raven squeezes as an experiment and the pressure makes her gasp. Octavia responds immediately, mouth insistent, and emits small noises of content . Raven begins to rock slowly, against her will, thrusting towards the slick heat of Octavia’s tongue. Her hips rise and fall in jerky movements that move in sync with her ragged intakes of air.

Octavia is having none of that and slams Raven’s back to the locker row. The girl can do nothing but helplessly hold onto her friend’s hair and writhe against Octavia’s hold on her hips, keeping her steady. Octavia’s tongue flicks faster now, moving rapidly over her clit, and she brings another hand to circle Raven’s entrance. Pressure builds inside her, and Raven moans, throwing her head against the wall and attempting to push forward. A slim finger rubs over her entrance and Raven shudders at the minimal contact. 

Octavia rubs the slick, textured flesh and Raven’s inner walls flutter in response. She grips Raven’s thighs where they encircle her head and presses back with abandon. The kneeling girl has lost her finesse and instead trails her wet mouth over every inch of her friend. Raven feels her pressure building, deep within her core, and her legs start to shake. Octavia seems to catch on because she latches directly onto her clit and sucks the pulsing nub.

“O, I-“ Raven starts, hardly coherent. Octavia just licks her rougher in response and slips a finger inside. It is not this, but the glimpse she catches of Octavia desperately rocking against the heel of her own hand, that send Raven over the edge. She gasps, muffled cry tearing from her lips. Raven comes with a muffled cry, head thrown back in ecstasy as stars dance in front of her eyes. Octavia remains latched onto her, suckling relentlessly until Raven whines and pushes her away from the over-sensitive folds. She feels drained and leans lax against the wall - only Octavia’s grip on her tights keeps her upright. Eventually, the hold loosens, and Raven slides down the cool metal locker and lands on the concrete floor. She breathes heavily, yanking her shorts halfway up her thighs with shaking fingers. Octavia’s presence looms before her.

“That was-“ Raven begins. She isn't sure how to continue and her voice trails off into nothing.

“Yeah,” Octavia finishes. The single word sums up so much, just in the way she says it. The girl settles on the bench. She looks slightly uncomfortable, and Raven knows why. Octavia keeps tugging at the fabric covering her crotch, eyes darting around with an almost guilty expression. Her cheeks are flushed a delicious shade of red and Raven wants nothing more to see how far the blush spreads down her chest.

“Lets, uh, check out the showers? My lip might be hurt, but...” Raven trails off, waggling her fingers suggestively. Hope blossoms in her chest, something dormant.

“Thought you'd never ask.”

Raven and Octavia don't leave the gym until 2 hours later, and when they do, their hands are clasped tight. They will have to discuss this later, they both now - but for now they are free to enjoy each each other and make up for lost time.


End file.
